


Hidden In Your Scars

by MissCrazyWriter321



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: But it kind of works out, F/M, Felicity isn't good with boundries, Fluff, Mick is very confused, Romance, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9259232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: Felicity sees Mick's burn scars for the first time. Her reaction is definitely not what he expects.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This little idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy it as much as I do!

He can feel her staring at him.

 

It’s not like he doesn’t know why; For all the time the teams have spent together since fighting the Dominators, she’s never seen him in short sleeves. Now, he wears only a tank top, jeans, and his gloves, so his burn scars are on display for her to see.

 

He tries to ignore her, focusing his energy into the punching bag in front of him, and hopes Teams Arrow and Legends will get back soon. Not that he’s holding his breath. Everyone is celebrating Oliver’s engagement to Sara’s sister, (not Sara’s sister? He’s a little fuzzy on that, not that he’s tried very hard to understand. He truly couldn’t care less.) and he suspects that will take awhile.

 

He hadn’t been interested in going, and Felicity had volunteered to “keep an eye on him,” though he saw the pain flickering across her face, and he suspects she just wants to avoid the happy couple.

 

And thus, he finds himself alone in the Arrow Cave with none other than Felicity Smoak.

 

The bag is a nice distraction at first, but in the back of his mind, he’s aware of her gaze on him, burning him as much as the fire ever did, and finally, he snaps.

 

“What?” He whirls to face her, pouring every ounce of frustration into his scowl.

 

She jumps, but calms almost immediately, face flushing slightly.

 

“Nothing, I just… You have…” She falters, gesturing to his scars. A sarcastic comment forms on his tongue… “A duck.” … And dies, confusion taking its place.

 

“What?” He repeats, quieter this time. 

 

She bites her lip, standing and making her way to him, heels echoing across the tiled floor.

 

He tenses as she draws close, and she hesitates, before taking the final few steps, closing the gap between them.

 

“Right here,” she murmurs, and her fingers brush his shoulder. 

 

He isn’t moving, doesn’t even dare to breathe, as she traces the injured skin. He doesn’t let people touch his scars, not ever, but moving away feels impossible right now.

 

“The scars make a duck.”

“Oh?” He asks, struggling to keep his voice even.

 

“Mhmm. And here, you have a mouse.” Her hands drift to a spot on the back of his neck. “And here…”

 

She continues her exploration, and he tunes out her words, forcing himself to exhale. He lets her chatter wash over him, and focuses on the steady brushes of her fingertips, the gentle touches from hands far too cold for such a warm woman, (he wants to hold them, to warm them up, and what sort of a sap has he become, anyway?) and the scent drifting up from her: something soft and fruity, and entirely her.

 

Suddenly, her hands still, and she lets out a quiet gasp. She stumbles back half a step, and he blinks, trying to draw himself out of the hazy state he’s slipped into. 

 

Right. She’s remembered who he is, what he is, and what he’s done. That was, he can admit to himself, nice while it lasted.

 

“I am so, so sorry. That was… Completely inappropriate, and I should not have-”” Her voice is shaking, but not with fear. With regret, and embarrassment, but no fear.

 

His decision is made before he realizes there’s something to decide.

“‘S okay,” he mutters, hand snapping out and catching her arm. She pauses, eyeing him uncertainly. Uncertainly, but still, not fearfully. “Could’ve stopped you if I’d wanted to.”

 

He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a threat, but he’s painfully aware of how much it sounds like one, and he quickly releases her wrist, trying to wordlessly assure her that she’s safe.

 

She hesitates a moment, maybe weighing his words, and acknowledging the truth of them, before nodding slowly. Still, she doesn’t seem totally convinced. She nibbles on her lip, eyes lowered, waiting for something. Anger, maybe? Offense? 

 

She looks a bit like a scolded child, and something in him rushes to fix it. (He can only imagine what Snart would say about this.)

 

“There’s more,” he half-blurts, tugging his gloves off and dropping them to the ground. He extends his hands toward her, palms down, for her inspection.

 

She draws in a breath, before reaching out, taking one of his hands in both of hers. (Still so cold, he notes.) She traces the back of it slowly, and this time, he watches.

 

He watches her slim index finger moving gracefully over his rough scars, finally settling on a tiny patch of skin.

 

“There’s a heart!” She practically chirps, and he glances back to meet her eyes. Any trace of the uncertainty from before is gone, replaced with a beaming, toothy grin, and shining eyes. 

 

He’s so stunned by the expression, aimed at him, of all people, it takes him a moment to register her words.

 

“A what?”

 

She taps on his hand, and he looks back, feeling a bit silly. He’s seen the back of his own hand millions of times, there’s no way-

 

But there is. Hidden amongst the countless burns, there’s a small section, curved on one end, and pointed on the other, that more than resembles a heart.

 

He scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head.

 

“Don’t know how you saw that,” he admits, and she shrugs.

 

“I guess I was just looking.” 

 

There’s no way she just means the burn, and he meets her gaze uncertainly. (Perhaps a little wildly, but neither of them comment on it.)

 

She meets his eyes steadily, and he draws in a breath, glancing at her lips, then back to her eyes.

 

She blinks, her smile never faltering, and… Surely he isn’t imagining her leaning closer? He leans forward as well, her breath warming his face, eyes starting to drift shut.

 

Of course, that’s when the others decide to come back.

 

Their laughter fills the air long before they come into view, and Mick draws back, Felicity following suit.

 

By the time a single hero-type makes it into the room, Felicity is back to her computer, steadily typing away, and Mick has returned his attention to the punching bag.

 

Mick wonders, for a moment, if that will be the end of it, but then he shoots her a glance, over the heads of the others. She grins back at him, cheeks dusting pink, and something settles in him

 

He tosses her a wink, then returns to his bag.

 

This isn’t over, he knows.

 

Not by a long shot.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you go!
> 
> I really need a new username, don't I? I still love Mixen, but I have so many Mick ships, it isn't even funny.
> 
> Mixen  
> KillerWave  
> CanaryFire  
> SirenWave  
> SuperHeat  
> OverHeat
> 
> Even  
> CanaryWave and... Whatever Mick and Lisa's ship name is. 
> 
> So, what do you guys think?
> 
> The Random Mick Shipper?
> 
> The Unstoppable Mick Shipper?
> 
> Get Mick A Girlfriend?
> 
> Maybe you guys can come up with something better? XD


End file.
